Abortion: Part Two
What killed me was I knew it could have been avoided. I knew that if I had just taken care of it alone without telling anyone I wouldn’t have had to deal with the social repercussions. And yet, some small vulnerable part of me reached out for help, for support.
How To Get Bullied On A Bus
Almost instantly, Karen became a national celebrity. America felt terrible for her, as we rightfully should, so heartbreakingly sweet and apologetic interviews with Karen can now be found across TV and the web.
A Brief History Of Rooftops I’ve Been On
I flip through an old copy of The New Yorker until you call. Anxious. Taking in what I can — the cartoons, the poems, the first two pages of a seven page feature. You ask me what my parents do (because we are working from the inside out and always will be).
Times When I Feel Jewish
When watching in horror as someone pours ketchup on a hot dog.
Manuscripts Don’t Burn
“Don’t you remember,” said my mother, “don’t you remember what Daddy does? That woman was in a concentration camp. And Daddy works with a motor company to find out what kinds of people put her there, and people who were in our family, too. What Daddy’s doing is very important.”
